


Dark

by iamveryaverage



Series: Percabeth Theme Challenge [4]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Focuses on Percy's experiences in the Styx, Not really much in the way of Percy/Annabeth but it's mentioned, This is coming close to acceptable length unlike the previous ones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 12:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamveryaverage/pseuds/iamveryaverage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I stepped into the river. Everything went dark.</p>
<p>I had planned to walk in slow and courageous like a real hero in all the movies. As soon as the water touched my legs, my muscles turned to jelly and I fell face-first into the current. Not particularly heroic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark

**Author's Note:**

> The fourth older instalment.

I glanced into the water. Bits of debris floated around in the blackness, toys that were thrown away, college diplomas that were never collected. All the lost dreams of the dead. Lovely. To be perfectly honest, it looked worse than the rivers back in New York, and that was saying something.

"So . . . I just jump in?” I asked praying he said something like ‘What, this isn’t the Styx! We can’t have you swimming in there’ and then took me for cheeseburgers. Or at least failing that reassure me that I wasn’t about to jump to my death.

"You have to prepare yourself first," He said, "or the river will destroy you. It will burn away your body and soul.” So much for reassurance.

"Sounds fun," I muttered, trying to ignore my instincts, which were all telling to run. Fast.

"This is no joke," Nico warned. "There is only one way to stay anchored to your mortal life. You have to . . .” His gaze flickered to something behind me and his face was an almost comical mixture of awestruck and ‘Help’.

I whipped around and found myself face to face with – wait, what was Ares doing here? I took a closer look. Tall, buff, cruel scarred face and closely shaved black hair. White tunic, bronze armour and a plumed war helm under his arm. Pale green, human eyes, like a shallow sea, not Ares, so who? Who needs to speak to me? And why now of all times? I glanced down and saw the bloodied arrow sticking out from between the straps of his left sandal. Even I knew who this was, and I sucked royally at Greek names.

“Achilles” I said. The greatest warrior of all time, killed by an arrow to the heel.

"I warned the other one not to follow my path. Now I will warn you.” He said mournfully, like he had seen this all too many times, and it had never ended well. I tried not to let that put me off too much.

"Luke? You spoke with Luke?” 

"Do not do this," he said. "It will make you powerful. But it will also make you weak. Your prowess in combat will be beyond any mortal's, but your weaknesses, your failings will increase as well.” Great. Just what I wanted to hear. I would be a great fighter, but my fatal flaw would become even more fatal. 

"You mean I'll have a bad heel?" I said sceptically. "Couldn't I just, like, wear something besides sandals? No offense.” I’d always thought that was stupid of Achilles, exposing his one weakness like that.

He stared down at his bloody foot. "The heel is only my physical weakness, demigod. My mother, Thetis, held me there when she dipped me in the Styx. What really killed me was my own arrogance.” That must have been his fatal flaw. Hubris, a godlike pride or arrogance. Just like the Sirens told Annabeth hers was. No. I mustn’t think about Annabeth or I would chicken out.

“Beware! Turn back!” He meant it. I could hear the regret and bitterness in his voice. He was honestly trying to save me from a terrible fate. But I had no choice. If I didn’t try, Luke would destroy everything I loved. I would much rather have searched for another alternative, preferably a less agonizing one that wouldn’t result in almost certain death. I wanted so bad for an escape, an opening for me to chicken out. But Luke had been here, and he hadn't turned back.

That's why Luke had been able to host the spirit of Kronos without his body disintegrating. This is how he'd prepared himself, and why he seemed impossible to kill. He was impossible to kill, or close enough. He had bathed in the River Styx and taken on the powers of the greatest mortal hero, Achilles. He was invincible.

"I have to," I said. "Otherwise I don't stand a chance.”

Achilles lowered his head sadly, like this was just another failure on his part. I felt almost sorry for the guy, I mean, eternity warning demigods away from the river and the temptations it held and failing every time. "Let the gods witness I tried. Hero, if you must do this, concentrate on your mortal point. Imagine one spot of your body that will remain vulnerable. This is the point where your soul will anchor your body to the world. It will be your greatest weakness, but also your only hope.” That sounded so much like something form Star Wars I almost laughed out loud, but then I remembered the situation and realise that wouldn’t have been very helpful.

“No man may be completely invulnerable. Lose sight of what keeps you mortal, and the River Styx will burn you to ashes. You will cease to exist.” Cheerful stuff. Where should I have my mortal point…

"I don't suppose you could tell me Luke's mortal point?” It was a long shot, but I had to give it a go.

He scowled. So no then. Well, it was worth a try. "Prepare yourself, foolish boy. Whether you survive this or not, you have sealed your doom!” With that happy thought, he vanished.

"Percy," Nico said, "maybe he's right.” He looked like he was going to throw up.

"This was your idea.” I reminded him, my resolve hardening.

"I know, but now that we're here—” After all this, he was the one trying to wheedle me out of it. Maybe he didn’t want me dead after all.

"Just wait on the shore. If anything happens to me . . . Well, maybe Hades will get his wish, and you'll be the child of the prophecy after all.” I said, not quite sure if I was being sarcastic or not.

He didn't look pleased about that, but I didn't care.

Before I could change my mind and run away screaming, I concentrated on the small of my back—a tiny point just opposite my navel. It would be well defended when I wore my armour. It would be hard to hit by accident, and few enemies would be intuitive or weird enough to aim for it on purpose. No place was perfect, but this seemed right to me, and a lot more dignified than, like, my armpit or something.

I pictured a string, a bungee cord connecting me to the world from the small of my back. And I stepped into the river. Everything went dark.

Imagine jumping into a pit of boiling acid. Now multiply that pain times fifty. You still won't be close to understanding what it felt like to swim in the Styx. 

I had planned to walk in slow and courageous like a real hero in all the movies. As soon as the water touched my legs, my muscles turned to jelly and I fell face-first into the current. Not particularly heroic.

I submerged completely. For the first time in my life, I couldn't breathe underwater and it scared me. I finally understood the panic of drowning; every nerve in my body burned, I was dissolving in the water, I saw faces—Rachel, Grover, Tyson, my mother—but they faded as soon as they appeared. My brain was shutting down, resigning itself to the ripping, burning current.

"Percy," my mom said. "I give you my blessing.”

"Be safe, brother!" Tyson pleaded.

"Enchiladas!" Grover said. I wasn't sure where that came from, but it didn't seem to help much.

I was losing the fight, the pain was too much. My limbs were melting into the water, my soul was detaching from my body. I couldn't remember who I was. The pain of Kronos's scythe had been nothing compared to this.

The cord, a familiar voice said. Remember your lifeline, dummy! Suddenly there was a tug in my lower back. The current pulled at me, but it wasn't carrying me away anymore. I was riding on it. I imagined the string in my back keeping me tied to the shore. Maybe thinking about Annabeth was the key, mabe the one person that made me feel weak was the key to my strength.

"Hold on, Seaweed Brain." It was Annabeth's voice, much clearer now. "You're not getting away from me that easily.” 

The cord strengthened. My heart surged.

I could see Annabeth now—standing barefoot above me on the canoe lake pier. I'd fallen out of my canoe. She was reaching out her hand to haul me up, and she was trying not to laugh and failing. She wore her orange camp T-shirt and jeans. Her hair was tucked up in her Yankees cap, which was strange because that should have made her invisible. She was beautiful.

"You are such an idiot sometimes." She smiled that familiar, condescending smile that always made me feel silly and made my stomach go all gooey and fluttery. "Come on. Take my hand.”

Memories came flooding back to me—sharper and more colourful. I stopped dissolving. My name was Percy Jackson. I reached up and took Annabeth's hand. And the darkness exploded away as I lay gasping on the shore.

**Author's Note:**

> Much less fluffy than the previous instalment.
> 
> I am trying to get these older pieces uploaded as quickly as I can so that I can focus on actually writing more, so there are a few more parts to come before I tentatively post some newer works.
> 
> Say hi on tumblr: truckloadofknockoffjeans


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